


Twain

by kashmir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-28
Updated: 2006-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashmir/pseuds/kashmir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes two halves to make a pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twain

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by the awesome [](http://arabella-hope.livejournal.com/profile)[**arabella_hope**](http://arabella-hope.livejournal.com/), without you baby, this fic wouldn't be HALF as good as it turned out to be. Written for the MARVELOUS, WONDERFUL, AWESOME [](http://estrella30.livejournal.com/profile)[**estrella30**](http://estrella30.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_holidays/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_holidays/)**spn_holidays**. I went for the _"schmoopy holiday wincest"_ and _"hot, sexy, schmoopy wincest, and really dirty porny wincest"_ part of your request. I hope you like this, baby! ♥ Am ridiculously proud of this for being the longest one shot I've EVER written.

_CHRISTMAS, 2005_

Dean hadn't even realized it was almost Christmas until the day before, when they'd been at Betsy's Country Kitchen eating supper and checking obits and going over the game plan for that evening. He'd noticed the date at the top of the front page of the newspaper and had inwardly cursed. They were east of Bumfuck and just north of No and Where and it was fucking Christmas. Not that the Winchesters ever made a big deal about celebrating any of the major holidays but it was the first one since Sammy had come back into the fold and the first one for Sam since... Since Jess.

Dean would be lax in his big brother duties if he didn't do something for Sam. But he just wasn't sure what he COULD do. Just knew he had to do something.

He dropped Sam off at the hotel in the wee hours of the morning, making an excuse that he wasn't tired (huge lie) and was going to get some breakfast. Sam nodded with bleary eyes, covered with remnants of the ghoul they'd been hunting the night before. Sam desperately needed a shower and Dean needed to get away from Sam for a while to figure out what in the hell he was going to do.

He drove down the main drag in the early morning winter sun, squinting as the light bounced off the snow, blinding him. He snapped down the visor and almost drove right past the town's only liquor store. That was open. At eight am.

Dean pulled a U-turn and chuckled dryly to himself. _Takes care of Sammy's gift_, he thought.

Twenty minutes later, he came out carrying two bottles of Jack Daniel and a lot less money in his wallet. He grumbled under his breath about greedy store owners knowing they had you by the balls as he dug his keys out and slid behind the wheel. Pulling out of the lot, he continued on down the main drag, one half of his mission complete.

About another half mile down the road, he spotted a mini mart, apparently the only other thing in town open besides the liquor store and Betsy's. He sighed as he parked and got out. It would have to do.

He perused the shelves, picking up some HoHo's for himself and some Twizzlers for Sam and managed to find a foot high plastic tree, complete with lights, tinsel and tiny ornaments. He smiled when he noticed it was marked down to half price. _A Christmas miracle_, he murmured as he picked up the box, making his way towards the front to pay. He picked up a box of sugar cookies shaped like snowmen at the register and was soon back out in the cold morning, arms laden with packages.

Dean made his way back to the hotel and quietly opened the door, checking to see if Sam was awake or not before he brought the bags in.

Sam was zonked out, arms akimbo, clad only in what was probably his last pair of boxer's, on top of the covers of the bed farthest from the door. Dean smiled, went back to Impala and carried everything in. He sat the tiny plastic tree up on the dresser next to the ancient TV and put the bottles of Jack, along with the cookies and candy, underneath. He didn't have bows for anything but didn't think Sam would care.

Dean locked the door and laid down a new salt line before he started to get undressed himself. He sighed as he sat down to take off his boots, thinking about how closed off and quiet Sam was. Dean had no idea what Sam was going through, had never lost someone like Sam had or Dad. Sure, he'd lost Mom but sometimes Dean felt she was more just a fuzzy memory to him than a real person. But Jess... Jess was real for Sam and Dean didn't know how to fix the pain he saw in Sammy's eyes daily and he hated that. His major directive in life, whether or not he'd done it for the past four years, was to take care of Sammy. Dean had a horrible feeling he hadn't been doing such a good job of that if the new notch in Sam's belt and the shadows in his eyes Dean couldn't ever seem to chase away were an indication.

Dean slid under the covers, desperately needing a shower but too damn tired to care and let out a tiny moan of pleasure at being horizontal. He set the alarm on his watch for about one in the afternoon and closed his eyes, immediately falling asleep.

...

When Dean woke, the sun was slanted too far down in the sky for it to only be early afternoon. He sat up, eyes fuzzy and rubbed his face. Sam was sitting in one of the chair at the small table, a bottle of Jack in his hands. He must've caught Dean's movement out of the corner of his eye because he looked up and gave Dean a half smile. Dean flung the covers back and stretched, yawning.

"Time is it, Sammy?" he asked, noting his watch was missing from around his wrist.

Sam tossed Dean his watch after retrieving it from his pocket. "Almost four. Didn't even stir when the alarm went off right next to your head, Dean. Getting soft in your old age."

Dean got up, scratching at his bare belly and flipped Sam the bird. "Whatever, dude." He noticed Sam watching him with a weird look in his eyes. "What?" he asked, thinking maybe he had something on his face.

Sam's gaze dropped back to the bottle of amber liquid in his hand. "Dean... you... Thanks. I forgot it was Christmas."

Dean shrugged and tried to play it off. "Whatever. Just... Merry Christmas."

Sam smiled, although it didn't meet his eyes and sat the bottle down on the table. "Merry Christmas Dean. So um. Listen. You go shower, because dude, you reek." Sam half laughed when Dean flipped him off again. "And I'll go down to Betsy's and get us dinner."

Dean nodded and waited until Sam had left to pad barefoot into the bathroom with his Glock, laying it by the sink. Just in case.

...

When Dean came out of the bathroom almost forty minutes later, feeling more human than he had in ages or at least days, he found Sam once again sitting at the tiny table which was now covered with Styrofoam containers which smelled like they contained...

"Oh my god... is that _turkey_?" Dean practically moaned, hurriedly throwing on his last clean pair of jeans and his last clean tee shirt. _Gonna have to do laundry_, he thought as he sat down, opening his container.

Sam nodded, mouth full. "'S'good, too. And all the trimming'sh," he said, chewing with gusto.

Dean laughed. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Not polite Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes and retaliated by sticking his tongue out, complete with his mouthful of mashed potatoes and peas.

Dean felt himself go so still for a minute at the flash of his Sammy, the one he'd lived with for eighteen years before he'd gone to California, that it took him a moment to react. He started to laugh and then Sam joined in, eyes crinkling a little. Something in Dean's chest loosened a bit at the sound, at Sam's genuine laugh.

"Pansy," Sam said, shoveling stuffing in his mouth.

"Ass face," Dean muttered, eyes smiling as he dug into his turkey. Sam chuckled and they ate in companionable silence until they were both stuffed. Dean sat back and rubbed his stomach.

"Damn," he said, undoing his belt, "Betsy sure can cook."

Sam grunted in the affirmative, devouring one of the little snowmen sugar cookies. Dean reached over and grabbed one of the bottles, sat it in front of Sam.

"Wanna open up your present Sammy? Get nice and toasty?" Dean watched Sam swallow his cookie and nod, already breaking the seal on the bottle.

Sam nodded at the other bottle. "You, too, Dean. No fun to drink alone."

Dean grabbed his bottle and opened it, flicking the cap on the table where it bounced a few times before it settled on its side. He extended the neck of the bottle towards Sam. "Cheers," he said, winking at Sam.

Sam smiled back. "Cheers," he murmured as he clinked the bottle necks together before taking a long healthy swallow. Dean did the same and smiled at the warm burn that settled in his stomach.

...

An hour later, Dean was pleasantly buzzed and Sam was almost thoroughly sloshed. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were slightly glassy and Dean remembered now why he had never, ever let Sam have anything harder than a beer. The guy just couldn't hold his liquor.

It was long since dark, the sun giving way to the cool light of the moon outside their window and Dean sighed as he sat his bottle on the table, watched as Sam giggled inanely at whatever kid's Christmas program he'd let Dean talk him into putting on. Dean had no idea which one it was, they all sort of blended together for him but Sam seemed to enjoy it so he let it go; hardly even made any snide comments. Dean got up to double check the door and the salt line before either of them got any drunker or passed out.

The salt line was intact and he bolted the door and attached the chain to it. When he turned around, he caught sight of Sam tipping out of the chair onto the floor. Dean practically dove the few feet separating him and his brother, not wanting Sam to hit his head and end up with a concussion over something as stupid as motel floor when he was drunk off his ass on good ole JD.

He slid Sam back onto the seat and held him there by his shoulders. "You alright there kiddo?" he asked, looking at Sam's face. Sam gave a hiccup then a giggle then nodded.

"Yup," Sam said then he patted Dean's cheek. "You're pretty." Dean rolled his eyes and put his shoulder under Sam's arm.

"And you're wasted. Think it's time for you to turn in," Dean muttered, leading a drunk and very, very heavy Sam over to his bed. Sam sat down hard with his hands between his legs, eyes half lidded as he watched Dean. "Shoes off, Sammy."

Sam pouted, fucking actually stuck out his lower lip. "Tired," he muttered and Dean sighed, Sam's tone conveying more than just being ready to pass out from drink. Dean knew the tired meant so much more than that. Half of Dean wanted to bug Sam, to get him to open up but it didn't feel right; not with both of them both drunk. Sammy wouldn't even remember spilling his guts to Dean in the morning anyway. He watched Sam for a moment before he sighed and decided to just let it go for now.

Dean bent down, started to undo the laces on Sam's ridiculous tennis shoes _fucking Converse_ and then picked up both his legs, swinging them up and onto the bed. Sam was smiling at him a little goofily, eyes slightly unfocused. Dean smiled back as he maneuvered the covers out from Sam's mile long legs and pulled them up to Sam's chest. He patted him there twice, and then turned but Sam's hand on his wrist stopped him. Dean turned back around and Sam was watching him through his too long bangs.

"What, man?" Dean asked, getting tired himself. Between the turkey, the whiskey and only having had about three and a half hours of sleep to begin with, he was ready to drop. Sam shrugged one shoulder and looked down at the floor, at the space between Dean's bare feet. His thumb slowly traced Dean's pulse in his wrist as he spoke.

"Dean... 'member when I was little and you and I had to share a bed?" Dean nodded although he wasn't sure for one where this was going or if Sam could even see him, his study of the floor that intent. Sam sighed then continued to speak. "Can we do that again? Jus'... jus' tonight?" He sounded so much like the boy Dean had raised in that moment Dean couldn't say no. Even though it was slightly ridiculous at their age and considering their history, maybe not the wisest thing to do. Especially since Dean knew he wasn't who Sam really wanted in bed with him.

That didn't stop him from turning out all the lights and the TV and stripping off his jeans, leaving only the tiny tree lit as he slipped into bed behind an already passed out Sam.

Dean lay on his back for awhile, arm behind his head as he listened to Sam snore. He felt his eyelids growing heavy and turned his head, lightly traced his hand down the expanse of Sam's back.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy," he whispered into the dark of the room. Sam's only answer was a small snuffle as he rolled over and burrowed into Dean's neck. Dean was asleep moments later.

...

Dean opened his eyes hours later, disoriented, unsure of what woke him and also what time it was. He stilled, trying to get his bearings. His head throbbed slightly with his heart beat and then he realized what woke him. It was Sam, trailing his lips over Dean's naked shoulder. Dean stiffened a little and Sam murmured something that he assumed was supposed to be soothing and grabbed his shoulder, rolling him from his side onto his back. Sam loomed over him in the darkness, eyes unfathomable and lips parted and shining.

"Sam?" Dean asked, voice quiet in the stillness. Sam smiled, teeth blindingly white even in the dark. He bent down, his breath ghosting over Dean's lips, still smelling of whiskey.

"Missed this," he murmured, placing soft, light kisses on each corner of Dean's lips, while Dean lay silent and still beneath him. "Missed you..."

Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders and tried to push him away but he wouldn't budge, stubbornly stayed laying half on top of Dean.

"Sammy, come on... you're still drunk, you'll re-" Dean started to say but suddenly Sam had him pinned to the mattress with both his hands and his eyes.

"I'll what, Dean? Regret it? Why should it be any different now than it was before I went to school?" he said, eyes searing into Dean's. "I want this, Dean. I want you. I need... I need..." He trailed off, lowering his head to suck at Dean's pulse point as he kept him pinned to the bed. Dean whined low in his throat and arched into his touch.

"Sam, Sammy... gotta," he swallowed thickly as Sam started to nip and lick down over his chest, his wrists held in by one large hand now instead of two. _When the hell did he get so big?_ Dean thought absently. "Gotta let me go, Sammy."

Sam made a noise that Dean took to mean 'no' and squirmed some more. "Come on, Sam. Can't touch you like this."

Sam stopped what he was doing for a few seconds, his eyes snapping up to meet Dean's gaze, almost as if he was letting the fact that Dean wanted to touch him soak in. The moment was broken when Sam looked down and let go of Dean's hands and continued to kiss his way down Dean's torso. Dean ran one hand through Sam's hair as the other lightly traced up and down Sam's arm. Sam smiled against Dean's stomach and then nipped his skin right next to his navel. Dean hissed as Sam laughed and continued downwards, finally hovering over Dean's swollen cock. Dean shivered as he watched Sam study his cock, face set in concentration.. He settled on his elbows, spreading Dean's thighs a little and brought one hand up, circling the base with his fingers. Dean bit his lip and tried to not give in to the urge to let his eyes roll back in his head.

He had to see this.

Sam took a tentative swipe at the head with his tongue, sucking the pre-come that was leaking out of the slit into his mouth. Dean grunted and his hips shifted under Sam's weight and Sam finally took mercy on him and bent his head. He took Dean in deep, tongue riding the prominent vein on the underside the whole time he slid down on Dean's cock. Dean closed his eyes, let them roll back in his head because he couldn't fight it anymore. It was just too good.

Sam made appreciative noises when he sucked cock. Dean had forgot that but he was reminded of that fact quick enough and goddamn if he didn't feel like he was about to go off like a teenager again, getting his first damn blow job. Sam knew just where to suck and stroke. Knew how and when to increase the pressure, what rhythm would drive Dean closer and closer to that edge.

Dean didn't even realize he had threaded his fingers through Sam's hair until Sam reached up and patted him, letting him know he had been tugging too hard. Dean panted out what he hoped was an apology and loosened his grip.

He dug his heels into the mattress when Sam started sucking and bobbing in earnest, taking him deep in his throat and then almost all the way out again. Dean knew he was close, could feel the pleasure turning him hot and cold all over, the tension mounting in his gut, his groin. He arched his head back into the pillow and tried to warn Sam.

"S-Sammy... gonna, oh fuck, oh fuck... gonna c-co-" he managed to get out before Sam took him deep in his throat and fucking _swallowed_ around the head of Dean's cock. Dean fucking lost it, bucked and snarled as he emptied himself into Sam's mouth, chanting Sam's name over and over as his orgasm washed over him in waves.

When Dean finally settled back onto the mattress and managed to focus on Sam, despite the small aftershocks that still jolted through him, he pulled Sam up by the shoulders until his mouth was level with Dean's. Dean leaned up a little and pressed his lips to Sam's swollen ones, his tongue tracing the bottom one slowly, making Sam whimper. He could feel Sam's hard cock as it smeared wetness across his lower abdomen and smiled.

"Need some help with that?" Dean asked, pulling back only far enough to speak, their lips rubbing together. Sam smiled and nodded, cupping the nape of Dean's neck and kissed him again. Dean smiled into the kiss for a few moments, enjoying the taste of himself on Sam's tongue, before ending it again.

"Lube's in my bag. Think you can find it?" he asked, eyes dark and serious. Sam nodded and then hopped out of bed naked - Dean wasn't sure when they both lost their clothes. He shook his head, figures he must've been drunker than he realized, he decided it didn't matter as he watched Sam stalk back towards the bed, naked and hard, carrying Dean's ever present bottle of Wet. He felt his dick perk up at the sight and smirked. _Merry Christmas indeed_, he thought as Sam crawled back into bed, spreading out on top of Dean, settling between his legs.

Sam bent down and kissed Dean, a slow, wet, hot tangle of lips and tongues and teeth. Dean got lost in the kiss, focused intently on Sam and Sam's mouth and Sam's tongue and Sam's lips and it took a minute for the cool slide of lubed fingers circling his hole to register and Dean realized Sam picked up a few tricks at college. He broke the kiss and hissed a little when Sam eased the first finger inside past the tight ring of muscle. Sam's brow was furrowed in concentration and Dean stared at the little wrinkle as Sam worked his finger in deep and Dean tried to relax.

Sam bent down again and started nibbling on Dean's neck. Dean let out a breath as slowly, slowly, his body started to relax. Sam smiled into his skin and slipped another finger inside along the first and Dean felt his cock start to harden again, Sam humming and sucking against the skin of Dean's neck as he stretched him, driving Dean nearly mad with the amount of time he was taking on prep. Logically, Dean knew he should be thankful. He hadn't done this with anyone since... Sam. Since Sam actually and if Sam hadn't been taking such good care of him right now, he would've felt it for weeks after the fact.

But Dean really didn't care at that point. All he wanted was Sam's cock in his ass and he wanted it there yesterday. He whined in protest as Sam added a third finger and clutched at Sam's shoulders.

"Goddamit Sammy... fuck me already," he hissed out, voice gone rough and gravelly.

Sam straightened, leaving one last tingling bite on Dean's neck and pulled his fingers out. He grabbed the lube and slicked his erection up, eyes slipping shut. He bit his lip as he pumped that giant hand of his up and down his cock, once, then twice, getting it nice and slick. Dean licked his lips, his mouth watering at the sight. He couldn't wait to suck Sam off. _Maybe in the morning before I get my coffee_, he thought as Sam shifted forward on his knees. Dean spread his legs, grabbing a pillow to slide under his hips when a gentle hand on his hip stopped him.

"No, wait. Like this," Sam said, laying down beside Dean tugging on his wrist until Dean sat up. He wriggled his body until he was straddling Sam's waist, Sam's cock brushing wetly against the sensitive skin of Dean's inner thigh. Dean took Sam in hand and watched as Sam bit his lip, one hand gripping Dean's hip with bruising force and the other clutching at the pillow beneath his head.

Positioning Sam at his entrance, Dean slowly started to sink down, biting his own lip at how fucking huge Sam seemed to have gotten since the last time they'd done this. He slid down slow and easy, pausing every now and then to let his body adjust and watch the tension building in Sam from having to keep his hips still and not buck up and into Dean. Dean finally slid down the last inch or so and closed his eyes, body full and humming with the pleasure/pain of having Sammy buried deep in his ass.

Dean braced himself on Sam's stomach and started to move, one hand circling his own cock as he began to jerk himself off. He established a quick, hard rhythm, just how Sam liked it and within minutes, Sam was bucking and writhing beneath him, filthy words tumbling out of his mouth as he fucked Dean's ass. Dean would've smiled but all he could do was pant and keep moving, both his hips and his hand, knowing it wouldn't take much more for Sam to come and come fucking _hard._

When Sam curled his fingers tight on Dean's hip and quickened the pace, Dean practically strangled his own cock as he watched a flush bloom on Sam's chest. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging as he watched Sam arch his spine, biting his lip, the pressure draining the flesh from pink to white. He went completely still for a moment before letting out a long shuddering breath that sounded like Dean's name and then his body rippled with his orgasm. His eyes popped open, pupils blown wide, and met Dean's gaze and Dean fucking lost it, grunting as he shot across Sam's chest and stomach, painting his tan skin with white stripes.

Dean collapsed, panting into Sam's chest, his face buried in the sweat slick skin of Sam's neck. He felt his come smear across both their bellies and rolled to the side, grabbing the sheet and wiping them off as best he could. Rolling back into Sam, he rested his head on his shoulder, sliding closer when Sam put his arm around Dean. Their breathing was starting to even out and Dean's ass ached and he could _feel_ Sam's come running down his thighs and he knew he wasn't going to be able to walk right for a week. But when he looked up at Sam's face and saw him smiling, one that met his eyes, he couldn't feel anything other but contentment.

Dean was the one who put that look back on Sammy's face.

....

_CHRISTMAS, 2006_

Sam was fucking worried about Dean. He'd been shut down or shut off ever since Dad had...well. And Sam was at his wit's end for a way to reach him, a way to get his snarky, egotistical, inappropriate big brother back. He'd lain awake nearly all that night, slowly watching the light creep under the frayed and worn drapes in the motel room's window. Dean had never answered him the week before, after they'd dealt with that demon at the crossroads and the weight of what he didn't say was resting heavily on Sam's broad shoulders.

Sam wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear the answer anyway. Not with how Dean had been acting.

He laid there for a long time, not wanting to get up. Last night they'd had a difficult time with a particularly stubborn poltergeist and by all rights Sam should be still sleeping. He glanced at his watch and sighed. Nine in the morning and... shit. He let his head flop back against the pillow. It was Christmas. They'd both forgotten.

Sam flung the covers back and stood, stretching, in between the two beds. That was another thing that he couldn't get used to. Dean hadn't slept in the same bed for a whole night with Sam since the accident.

They hadn't fucked either.

Sam frowned at Dean's sleeping form and padded into the bathroom, brushing his teeth as the water in the shower heated up. He took his time under the spray, hoping the pounding spray would help loosen the perpetual knots that seemed to reside in his shoulders these days. He washed his hair then took himself in hand and jerked off. It was more out of necessity and more per functionary than anything and if Sam thought about his new morning routine too much he'd either want to smack Dean or shake some sense into him. Or fuck some sense into him.

That last option was the one Sam usually thought about while getting himself off.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom at nine forty five, Dean was still sleeping. Or pretending to be asleep, whatever. Sam got dressed and went over to shake Dean awake. Dean opened one bleary eye. _Really asleep it is then_, Sam thought.

"I'm headed out for coffee and breakfast, man," Sam said as he watched Dean try to focus sleep heavy eyes. "You want anything?"

Dean shook his head no then burrowed back beneath the covers, beginning to snore again almost immediately. Sam picked up the Impala's keys and made his way out into the bright, cold morning. He got into the freezing car and turned the key in the ignition, turning the heat on high and rubbed his hands together, waiting for the engine and the interior to heat up. He found himself staring blankly at the steering wheel as he tried to think of something, anything to pull Dean out of this... whatever it was. Funk, whatever.

He sat there for close to ten minutes discarding the same damn ideas that he'd had numerous times before, feeling as if he had gone over the same options hundreds of times. None of them had worked yet. Sighing, Sam put his head down on the steering wheel when it _hit_ him. He let out a short bark of laughter, remembering how he had been similarly depressed or in a funk or whatever last Christmas and the way that Dean had been the one to help pull him out and god, Sam laughed at himself again. It was so simple and had been staring him in the face. He sat up and put the car in gear, backing out and heading towards the Wal*Mart they'd passed the day before when they'd blown into town.

He had some shopping to do.

...

Sam pulled into the space he'd vacated two hours before and sighed. Who knew Wal*Mart would be busy on Christmas Day for crying out loud? He turned the car off and got out, digging his purchases out of the back seat. Somehow he'd managed to find a tiny fiber optic tree on sale - the tree Dean had bought last year had been one of the casualties of the accident - and had picked up some Little Debbie snacks in the shape of Christmas trees before heading over to the liquor store in the same complex as Wal*Mart and getting two bottles of tequila. He'd purchased up a deck of cards at Wal*Mart, too, along with some red bows for the liquor.

He opened the door to the room and heard the shower running. Quickly, Sam sat his shopping bags down on the bed and hurried back out to the car to grab the rest of his haul, a Christmas lunch from the tiny diner two blocks from the motel. It didn't smell nearly as good as the food they'd had the year before but it was better than burritos from the Quik-E-Mart.

Sam hurried through setting the tree up on the dresser, positioning the two bottles of Jose beside it, complete with bows. He unpacked the food and the plastic plates he'd bought and set the table, adding the final touch of a small candle and the Christmas tree treats for dessert. Dean would probably make fun of the candle and call Sam a girl, but if he did, Sam wouldn't care. At least that would be normal behavior for Dean.

Sam sat down in one of the chairs, absently channel surfing and propped his chin in his hand. Dean was still in the shower. Sam paused on some station showing that movie about the kid who wants a BB gun for Christmas. He left it there and watched half-heartedly, hoping his 'plan' would help Dean and not drive him further away.

He sighed and zoned out, the television white noise in the background. Sam's learned a lot of important things over his life from Dean and he just hoped this worked. Losing Dean was just something Sam couldn't bear.

...

Twenty minutes later and the food's getting cold and just what the _hell_ could Dean be doing in the shower that long for God's sake? Of course that's when the bathroom door swings open and Dean emerges amid a cloud of steam, wearing one of his towel turbans and a pair of boxer shorts. Sam felt his dick stir in his jeans and he shifted, suddenly gifted with a mental image of what Dean very well could have been doing as the water slid over his shoulders, trickled down the lean cut of his hips… Sam shook himself out of the fantasy, grimacing a bit at being reduced to fantasizing about his brother like some lovesick teenager.

Dean's eyes widened with surprise and he stopped two steps out of the bathroom door. Sam stood up and awkwardly wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," he said, smiling.

Dean looked from Sam's face to the food to the tree, to the 'presents' and back again. The corner of his mouth quirked up and Sam felt something in his chest ease. It wasn't a full grin by any stretch of the imagination but he'd take what he could get. Dean wasn't smiling nearly enough these days.

Dean stalked over to the table and poked at the food a little before glancing over at Sam. "Well someone was a busy little bee this morning." He affectionately smacked Sam's arm. Another small improvement.

Making his way over to his duffel, Dean pulled out clean jeans and a clean tee shirt and slipped them on. He came back over to the table and they both sat down.

Dean looked at Sam over the tiny candle and smiled. "I forgot today was Christmas. Least one of us remembered, huh?" Dean said then dug into his ham and sweet potatoes. Sam smiled a little to himself. Something was better than nothing he supposed.

Sam tucked into his meal and they ate in companionable silence for awhile. He almost choked on a mouthful of peas when Dean swallowed a mouthful then half smirked at Sam. "Nice set-up you got here, Sammy. Is this how you butter up all your dates before going in for the kill, sweet talking them out of their panties?"

Sam blushed hotly and stammered. "N-no, it's not that... Dean I just..."

Dean forked another mouthful of sweet potato into his mouth. "Gonna take more than some snack cakes and ham to get into my pants, Sammy my boy."

Sam tore his gaze away from Dean and stared intently at the scarred table top, mechanically eating, mind whirling. _Maybe Dean just doesn't want what you had together anymore, Sam_ he thought to himself, biting his lip.

...

Forty minutes later they'd broken the seals on the tequila bottles and were tearing through the box of Little Debbies. Sam forgot how much Dean had loved those stupid little trees when they were kids and mentally patted himself on the back for pulling that one out of his ass. Sam inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. The brief moment of tension while they were eating seemed to have passed and Dean seemed to be content to go along with whatever Sam had planned. Laying on their respective beds, Sam rolled his head on the pillow and focused on the TV. That movie about the kid is still on. And Sam thinks he's about to get his gun and then almost shoot his eye out. Dean was laughing at even the lamest jokes in the movie. Sam smiled.

Sam may not be able to hold his liquor, but nothing, absolutely nothing - got Dean tanked faster than some tequila. That Sam had remembered.

Dean lay sprawled indolently on his bed, tee shirt rucked up a little so that about a three inch band of skin was revealed. Sam idly stroked the neck of his own bottle as he stared at Dean, who was laughing again and Sam smiled reflexively at the sound.

Setting his practically untouched bottle of tequila on the stand between the beds, Sam met Dean's glassy and questioning stare. "Gotta pace myself, man. You know me and liquor."

Dean snickered and nodded. "Yeah, Sammy my boy. You can't hold it for shit. 'Member that time when I'd just turned twenty one and you begged me to let you have a sip of my beer and fucking spewed all over the couch? God, Dad was so pissed when he came home that night!"

Dean laughed at the memory and Sam tried not to let his surprise show at Dean's casual mention of their father. Dean must be drunker than Sam thought. He stood up, looming over Dean on his bed.

"Sam," Dean said, looking up at him, one eyebrow arched. "What the fuck are you doin?'"

Sam bent down and plucked the bottle (_half-empty, Jesus_, Sam thought) out of Dean's hand, ignoring his half-hearted protest of '_hey, give it!_ He sat the bottle well out of Dean's reach and smirked.

"You're tanked, man, and it's not even four in the afternoon. No more Jose for you," Sam said. Dean made a ridiculous pout and flopped back hard on his pillows.

"Come on, Sam... how else am I supposed to pass the time?" Dean whined, trying (and failing miserably) to replicate Sam's earnest puppy dog look. Sam bit back a laugh.

"Naw, man. Think we should take a nap or something." Sam started to turn, to get back on his bed when Dean's hand on his wrist stopped him, the touch tentative. Sam's gaze swung up to meet Dean's and he was shocked at the lust and sadness lurking there. "Dean, man-"

Dean licked his lips a little obscenely, eyes traveling down the length of Sam's body to stall on his crotch. Dean's smile turned predatory when he noticed the defined ridge of Sam's erection beneath the denim. "I can think of something we can do that involves a bed... but not sleeping." He waggled his brows at Sam, tongue poking out a bit between his goddamn pink perfect lips.

Sam squirmed, wanting what Dean was offering so badly he could _taste_ it, but not wanting it to just be... a way to blow off steam or pass a drunken evening for Dean. Dammit, Sam wanted it to mean something again. Sam pulled back from Dean and cleared his throat. "Dean, man, I-I don't know... you're drunk and I'm not much better and with everything we've been through the past few months-"

But Dean cut him off, sitting up and shaking his head. "No, dammit, Sam. I can't... I can't _not_ do this anymore. You know, I have tons of issues and shit and fucking my little brother," Sam winced at the bluntness but didn't interrupt Dean. "Is just one of many. But it's also the one that makes the rest of this shit storm even remotely bearable. And we haven't been fucking in too fucking long, Sam," Dean said, liquid green eyes boring into Sam's skull. "So get naked and fuck me already."

Sam swallowed, already knowing he was going to give in to Dean. Apparently his brother wasn't the only pushover in the family. He pulled his tee shirts off over his head and knelt on the bed, watching as Dean scooted over to make room. Dean watched Sam with hooded eyes. "You do remember how this goes, right, Sammy?" he asked, smirk and snark back in full force. Sam smiled, his Christmas dream coming true, and tackled Dean.

"Oh, I think I have an idea," he said, pinning Dean to the mattress by shackling his wrists in one hand. Sam was more than grateful to have been blessed with large palms. Dean squirmed and arched up, rubbing his denim-covered erection into Sam's belly.

"Dammit, Sam..." Dean whined and Sam grinned before bending down to suck at Dean's fluttering pulse point. Dean moaned and settled back against the mattress, tense arms going lax in Sam's grip. Sam smiled against Dean's skin and bit him, hard. With the same eagerness as a kid on Christmas morning, Sam tore Dean's shirt from him, letting go of Dean's hands to tug it free. Dean shivered when Sam returned his lips to their searching quest, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down his torso towards his navel. He was loose and pliant beneath Sam, moaning and writhing against the sheets.

So it was a complete surprise to Sam when he suddenly found himself face down in the mattress, Dean kneeling behind him, working Sam's boxers and jeans down over his knees. Dean leaned down to lick a stripe down over Sam's shoulder and Sam shuddered. Dean bent forward then to whisper in Sam's ear.

"We're doing this my way, Sammy," Dean murmured, breath tickling Sam.

Sam groaned and let himself go, put himself at Dean's mercy. If that's what Dean needed, Sam would damn sure give it to him. The heat from Dean's body radiated against Sam's back; Dean was hovering but not quite touching. He laid tiny kisses and nips all over the bare expanse of Sam's back and Sam shivered, nerves slowly becoming overloaded with stimuli.

Dean slid down over Sam until he was kneeling behind him. He nudged at Sam's legs until he spread them, positioning Sam so that he was kneeling, ass up in the air, and then cupped Sam's cheeks in his callused hands. Sam was expecting a finger slick with lube but instead he got Dean's tongue and he nearly came just from the first tentative touch. Sam made a strangled sound in his throat then moaned Dean's name long and low as Dean spread him with his hands, tongue circling Sam's hole slowly and tortuously. Sam bit at the pillow underneath him and arched back into Dean's mouth as Dean alternately lapped and circled at his entrance. He tried to relax when Dean shifted, expecting the slow slip-slide of Dean's thick finger inside of him in the not too distant future. He started to whimper when Dean spread him further, the tip of his tongue edging into him, both of Dean's thumbs helping to open him up further. He moaned helplessly into the pillow that was mashed against his face, hips thrusting blindly into the mattress, his cock desperate for friction.

Sam could felt his orgasm building up in his spine, spreading out to his fingers and toes and couldn't even manage enough air to let Dean know. He came in long, wracking shudders, body singing with pleasure.

He distantly felt Dean pull back and get up from off of the bed. Sam collapsed onto the mattress, not even caring that he had landed right on the wet spot. He could hear Dean rummaging through something and closed his eyes, wondered if he could get away with passing out for a bit. He felt like his brains had leaked right out of his cock with that orgasm. He couldn't remember the last time he'd come that hard and smiled to himself that it was Dean who did that to him.

Just then, the mattress dipped under Dean's weight and Sam felt him pulling at Sam's hips, nudging him to roll over. Sam whined in protest but did it anyway, flipping onto his back. Dean was kneeling once again at the foot of the bed, lube in one hand, slicked cock in the other. He was smiling at Sam and Sam found himself smiling back, still blissed out and loose.

"You ready for round two, Sammy boy?" Dean murmured, hand idly fisting his own cock. Sam felt the knot is his chest loosen at the look on Dean's face, one he hadn't seen a long, long time. He'd forgotten - how, he had no idea - how fan-fucking-tastic Dean's skin and fingers and tongue and cock and hands felt all over every inch of his body. How every sense was heightened with Dean, how sex with no one else had ever managed to make him feel sore and tired and used and achy and... loved.

He was remembering now. Sam smirked at Dean, eyes liquid and hazy with simmering arousal. "Are you, old man?"

Dean snickered. "You won't be calling me old man in a few minutes, boy." Sam watched with avid eyes as Dean whimpered, thumb swiping over the head of his cock, hips arching into his own touch. His eyes opened and met Sam's and Sam felt the slow burn of arousal in his stomach start to boil once again.

Dean finished slicking his own cock then drizzled some of the lube on his fingers, moving up the bed on his knees until he was kneeling between Sam's splayed legs. He bent down, nuzzled at Sam's chest, breath ghosting across a nipple before he kissed his way up to Sam's ear. "Get a pillow and slide it under your hips, Sammy," Dean murmured before biting down hard on Sam's lobe, causing a shudder to race through him.

Dean pulled back slightly and Sam hurriedly grabbed a pillow and shoved it underneath himself. Dean smiled again and then slowly, oh so _fucking_ slowly, slid one, then two fingers inside of Sam. Sam bit his lip, neck arching as the delicious burn hit him. Dean slowly thrust in and out, in and out, finally adding a third finger while Sam felt the hot blood filling his cock, felt it lengthen and swell again. Dean leaned down and mouthed at it while he thrust his fingers inside Sam, hard. Sam saw stars, almost coming again but Dean had wrapped his other hand around the base of Sam's cock to stave off his orgasm.

"Nuh uh. With me this time, Sammy. With me," Dean muttered, sliding his fingers free of Sam's body with a small pop. Dean took himself in hand again, fisted his cock once, twice before positioning it and then thrusting deep inside all in practically one slick movement. Dean covered Sam's body with his own as he started to move inside of him. Sam pulled his legs up and wrapped a shaking arm around Dean's shoulders, panting heavily in his ear. Dean buried his face in Sam's neck, grunting and growling occasionally, hips pistoning in and out of Sam.

Sam wanted this to last forever, the sweet, slick burn of Dean inside him, the way Dean seemed to only ever open himself fully to Sam when he was like this, like even when Dean was inside Sam he wasn't really. It was Sam that was inside Dean. And Sam had fucking missed that.

He felt the tension mount again, knew neither of them could last much longer, especially Dean. It had been too fucking long and between that and the liquor, Sam knew this would end sooner rather than later. Dean's stomach was rubbing against Sam's cock with every move he made and he arched into it, into the delicious friction it offered, needing, wanting to come again with his brother buried balls deep inside of him.

Dean's pace picked up and Sam felt his orgasm approaching like a tidal wave until suddenly, it washed over him and he coated Dean's stomach and his own with hot streams of come. Dean moaned Sam's name when Sam clenched around him and his rhythm went straight to hell. Sam gripped Dean harder and opened himself further, let Dean pound him into the mattress as his orgasm built. Dean stilled above him a moment later and Sam felt the pulses within him, wet heat, as Dean shuddered in Sam's arms.

He collapsed onto Sam, both of them panting, Sam keeping his arm wrapped tight around Dean. Dean lay there for several minutes before rolling over to sprawl next to Sam. He pulled Sam almost roughly into his side, something that again, they hadn't done for long months. Sam went willingly and felt Dean pat his shoulder as his breathing evened out.

"Missed you, Sammy," Dean slurred, burying his nose in Sam's hair before starting to snore. Sam smiled to himself in the darkness. It might not fix everything between them but it made everything else bearable, like Dean had said. He just hoped like hell that neither one of them - or, god forbid, both of them - were in a funk next Christmas. Although if that happened, Sam knew that they could weather it, together, like they did everything.

Sam felt sleep tugging him under then and burrowed deeper into Dean's warmth before whispering into the still darkness of the room, "Missed you, too, Dean."


End file.
